


Hold The Curve of One Position

by Chelle1117



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-07-10
Updated: 2011-07-10
Packaged: 2017-10-21 06:06:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,023
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/221774
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chelle1117/pseuds/Chelle1117
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>On the planet, Atlantis was never quiet, but she fell silent in space.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hold The Curve of One Position

On the planet, Atlantis was never quiet. The bustle of people coming and going, the metallic drag of equipment on the ancient city floors and the muted roar of conversations even in the dead of night kept the city awake, and the in and out susurrations of the surrounding ocean whispering against the piers made the city sound like a living breathing organism. But Atlantis fell silent in space. Deathly silent when the crew laid down for much needed sleep.

The threat still loomed, but consensus was that people needed to rest. Just under twenty hours remained until the city would lose its shield. Rodney and Zalenka had already been up for god knows how long, trying to determine how to break away from the killer beam from outer space. They'd figured that out, and now were struggling to determine where in space they were, how to make repairs, and if they could find a new home in time. Exhaustion didn't even begin to cover their condition, and John wasn’t about to let them continue without some rest.

It had been a hard sell, almost impossible, to get Rodney to take a break, but twenty hours was twenty hours, and if Rodney wasted one of those hours sitting in his chair burned out from lack of rest, then that was one hour that he could have been sleeping.

John felt the air sucked out of the room as the scientists working with Rodney stood waiting, their next breath hinging on what Rodney decided. John was relieved when the words “You’re right,” slipped through Rodney’s reluctant lips. The rush of everyone else’s relief was palpable.

John followed Rodney back to his quarters, wanting to make sure he relaxed enough to lie down for at least an hour or two.

Thing was, when McKay finally took a break, so did everyone else. And the result was silence.  
John was unnerved by it. He sat up in bed, straining to hear the gentle rush of the waves that used to stroke the edges of the city, but it wasn’t there. Remembering what had happened, he listened for some sound, any sound, that could give indication of where the city was now. He twitched a little. Hurtling through space the way they were, there should be some noise, but there wasn’t. It wasn’t natural. He felt submerged, deprived of sensation.

At least Antarctica had had sunlight and wind, snowflakes and sleet falling against his face. Even though the cold was enough to render him numb, there was not the endless darkness and vacuum of space on Antarctica.

“John?”

Rodney never called him John. It was always ‘Colonel’ or ‘Sheppard’, never just John. Not even in the privacy of his quarters. It was enough to make John turn around.

“What is it, Rodney?”

Rodney grunted up at him from the bed. “I could ask you the same question. You’re very, ah,” his hand fluttered about above the covers, and John had to smile. “Pensive. Yes. That seems to work.”

“Well, Rodney. I suppose flying through space with mere hours until total shield failure and imminent death will make a guy think about things.” John said.

At that, Rodney sat up, leaning his weight on his elbows. “You know _that’s_ not going to happen.”

It wasn’t arrogance that made Rodney say that, and John was relieved to hear the return of Rodney’s superior confidence in the tone of his voice.

“I know.”

“I will fix this.”

“I know.” He breathed deep, trying to dispel that feeling of weightless numbness. “It’s just,” he shook his head, “it’s too quiet. It’s like nothing’s out there or in here, and I …” He fell silent. There’s no articulation for what he felt, and even if there was, John wasn’t sure he’d be able to put it out there.

That’s never been something he’s ever been particularly good at.

So he sat at the foot of the bed, silent.

The sheets rustled, a whisper of fabric loud in the dead silence of Atlantis. Then warm fingers slid down the center of his back. They raised goose bumps on his flesh, and John shivered at the sensation. The intensity of it after the numb feeling was almost too much. “Rodney,” he whispered.

And then there were lips on his skin. Dry, rough, slightly chapped from being worried at and bitten in concentration and frustration, Rodney’s lips were scratching gently at the skin on John’s neck. Rodney wrapped an arm around his waist, put a hand over his eyes, whispered, “Hush,” drawing out the shhh, and tugged. He didn’t say anything else, but slid his lips to John’s shoulder as they laid down again, bodies close together on the cool bed.

John swallowed. It was dark beneath Rodney’s hand, silent in the room, and the heat from Rodney’s body surrounded him like water, shutting everything else out, and setting him adrift. His breath hitched in his throat.

Then, Rodney slid a leg up over John’s thigh, anchoring him.

Any other night and John would have turned onto his side to be out from under that leg, the pressure of it – no matter how pleasurable – threatening. Tonight, however, John let it lie, took comfort in the way it grounded him in the bed, if not the world. He rested one hand on Rodney’s thigh, fingers digging into the solid muscle there. The other reached up to pull Rodney’s palm away from his eyes.

He turned to face Rodney in the bed, and those deep blue eyes were focused, intent on his face. John blinked.

Rodney huffed a breath, flexed his leg higher onto John’s thigh, pushing down a little harder.

John’s eyes closed again, and he let himself float there, in the moment. He felt the heat of Rodney seeping into his skin; felt the crisp hairs on Rodney’s thigh prickling; the soft waft of air as Rodney breathed in and out. And the sound of it was like the softness of the waves hitting the piers. Eventually, John didn’t feel so numb anymore.

He let himself drift, listening to the silence that wasn’t so silent anymore.

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [Rounds of Kink](http://rounds_of_kink.livejournal.com) on LJ. Prompt: sensory deprivation.


End file.
